Among The Stars I Sail
by soaring freedom
Summary: A teenaged Sam makes a deal to heal a gravely injured Dean, however part of the deal was that Dean loses his memory, now almost a decade later the brothers meet again under surprising circumstances. Can the bond of brotherhood survive the barrier of time and memories?
1. The Hardest Part

Chapter one : The Hardest Part 

And the hardest part

Was letting go, and not taking part

It was the hardest part

– "The hardest part" by Coldplay.

* * *

><p>A slight beeping sound could be heard in the background.<p>

It was still hard to believe that it had all came down to this in the end, even after years of hunting and hundreds of stiches in crappy room motels. Even though he knew instinctively that it will all end here he still can't believe it, apparently there really is a difference between knowing something and believing it.

He feels detached from the world like he is a ghost, a specter of what he once was and will never be again.

A rattling sound echoes every time his brother takes a breath and he wonders if this breath will be his last, when – nit if –the simple calming rhythm of the heart monitor will stop.

The sound of a pitiful whimper reaches his ears and he has to stifle one of his own in return.

He hates the waiting, the uncertainty of it all, waiting for someone to deliver the killing blow. He wants to help, can't stomach the idea that there are a bunch of strangers saving his brother's life while he just sits there helplessly, but there is nothing he can do and in the end all that is left is to wait.

They had tried countless times to remove him from his brother's side but he refused time and time again – technically speaking no one should have been allowed in the room from the first place never mind the fact he is a patient here at the hospital too and he shouldn't be out of the bed- in the end the nurses let him alone because he looks wretched and pitiful.

Maybe they shouldn't have allowed him here after all, for he doesn't know what's worse, not being able to see his brother, or seeing his brother and not recognizing him because all he can see is a frail, pale body and he can't find a trace of his – larger than life – big brother there at all.

His brother who is hooked up to every medical machine the hospital has to offer, who looks ashen and—No, he can't think about this right now.

He looks about the room trying to distract himself, but there is nothing in the room besides the bed and the numerous pieces of equipment. Even the stack of thorns he is sitting on – which has no relation to a chair whatsoever and is probably designed specifically for the purpose of torture – can't distract him from what is really going on.

But in the end it's all useless; he can't escape the truth, he would give anything to close his eyes and let oblivion take him from this harsh reality, except that he knows what will be waiting to greet him in the dark creases of his mind and any reality is better than the horrible visions his mind conjures.

He wishes Dad was here. He remembers how he felt betrayed and disappointed every time his father left his brother and him alone to fend for themselves while he went out for a hunt, those days he felt like he lost both of his parents in the fire all those years ago.

But it wasn't until now that he realizes how untrue that was; now that he has lost his father for real, he notices his absence. God how he longs for his comforting presence, Dad might not give him a hug but a reassuring hand on his shoulder would do wonders to Sam right now, he wants his father there to promise that everything will be all right.

He even misses the fights they used to have, how they fought about stupid and useless things, about things that seemed important then and there but holds no meaning now.

Now that he can't talk to his father anymore, can't shout and scream, can't blame him for everything going wrong in their lives and most important of all he can't ask him for forgiveness. He can't do any of that now, not again, not ever, because his Dad is gone. His Dad, the one that held strong against everything time and fate threw at him.

He can't believe his father is dead, he always thought that Dean was the one who believed John was an invincible hero, but it seemed that there was a part of Sam that believed that even though his dad was no hero, he would always be there to protect them.

But now Dad is dead and Dean is dy—is sick, Dean the one who had taken care of him all his life – of both their lives really – and the least Sam can do is to take care of Dean, now that Dean can't do it himself, he owes it to him he just doesn't know what he is supposed to do.

The only thing he can do is to not give up on his brother. So he holds his brother's hand tight in his own and prays.

Suddenly the hand in his grip twitches slightly and before he could rejoice in this fact for more than half a second, a blaring noise sounds deafeningly in the room, as though all the contraptions connected to his brother are wailing at the same time.

The moment he looks up he can see why all the machines are going crazy, his brother is having a seizure, a full blown seizure right in front of his eyes, he lets out a horror filled scream reflexively and backs away, staring in morbid fascination and before he could do anything more, doctors and nurses rush into the room.

Everything is in chaos around him, he doesn't know what's going on, can't hear anything except for the earsplitting screeches, he doesn't even know right from left, the only thing he knows is that Dean is still seizing and twitching and jerking and–

And a motherly nurse with sympathetic look in her eyes, blocks his view of Dean. He tries to go around her, but to no avail, she is holding his shoulder tight, anchoring him in his place. She is saying something to him but he can't hear her, he wants to see Dean, to make sure he is alright, but Dean isn't alright he is having a seizure.

And at that thought all the strength leaves Sam, he has no desire to see Dean like this, one glance was enough for a life time and he is certain that the image of his brother jerking and twitching will forever be engraved in his mind, that's why when the nurse starts to guide him out of the room he follows her obediently.

She takes him to the waiting room, and sits beside him. She doesn't say anything and neither does he, and that's how the time passes. He knows the real reason she is sitting beside him is to ensure he doesn't run away or do anything stupid.

He had seen the look everyone at the hospital gives him, they had suggested he take a session with a grief counselor more than once and he knows he won't be able to refuse again. They had already called CPS and if it wasn't for the fact that he himself is still admitted to the hospital, he would have found himself at a foster house by now.

After what seemed like days but was probably only half an hour the doctor responsible for Dean's case came into the waiting room. Sam doesn't know his name but he saw him enough times to recognize him. He nodded at Sam and Sam understood the gesture for what it was and quickly followed the doctor out of the room leaving the nurse behind.

He was going to ask about Dean's well being when the doctor beat him to it, probably already knowing exactly what Sam was going to say.

"Dean's seizure is over, and we have him on Carbamazepine to reduce the possibilities of another fit occurring." It didn't escape Sam's notice that the doctor didn't say anything else about Dean's state, like he wanted to spare him this information.

But Sam is nothing if not stubborn, so he asked the doctor anyway. "Dean is going to be fine now, right?"

The doctor tried to hide a wince and failed miserably, he gave Sam a sympathetic look and took a deep breath, which meant 'let's sit down and have a cup of hot chocolate, I am about to give some bad news'.

"I don't want to sit down." Sam said abruptly interrupting the doctor before he even began. And then he lowered his voice considerably. "Say what you want to say already." He said almost pleadingly.

The doctor looked like he was about to protest but then he shook his head and didn't object; apparently he realized that some battles couldn't be won. "I'm worried about the head trauma. I am afraid there's an early sign of cerebral edema."

When the doctor noticed the confused look on Sam's face he elaborated. "Cerebral edema is the excess accumulation of fluid in the intracellular or extracellular spaces of the brain, most people with this degree of injury wouldn't have survived for hours let alone this long. Your brother is a fighter, alright. But you need to have realistic expectations. I am sorry son."

"So" and here Sam took a deep breath to steady his offbeat heart. "What you're saying is he isn't going to make it."

The doctor looked torn not wanting to give false hope and also not wanting to crush the boy in front of him, so he settled on indecisive statement instead. "I will be honest with you, Sam, the odds aren't in his favor, but nothing is set in stone." The doctor gave his shoulder a firm but gentle squeeze before continuing in a soft voice. "You can go stay with your brother now, until we know more."

Sam nodded, the doctor didn't say it, but Sam grew professional at reading between the lines and it's not like the doctor was trying to hide it that much either. Dean wasn't going to make it, or so the doctor believed anyway. He wanted time to comprehend everything, and thankfully the doctor seemed to get that because he left after patting his shoulder twice.

Sam suddenly felt like he couldn't catch his breath, he felt like the walls were closing on him, he had to get away, he needed to get far away from the white walls, the bustling doctors and the sterile smell – the smell of death like an omen forewarning of what is to come – he can't take it anymore.

He had to get out of here, to smell fresh air.

So he took off running, bypassing everyone in the hallways until he reached the hospital doors and he kept running still. He ran and ran until he couldn't run anymore and just let it all go. He sat down on the ground in some dark alley and cried from the unfairness of it all.

* * *

><p>He didn't know how long he sat there crying his heart out; it could have been hours it could have been minutes he just knew it felt like forever.<p>

Suddenly without any warning he got the feeling that he wasn't alone. No, it wasn't a feeling, he knew beyond any shadow of doubt that someone else was there. He didn't know where the certainty had come from but it was there.

He looked up trying to find who had invaded his solitude but fortunately or unfortunately in this case he didn't need to try hard, there was a man kneeling right in front of him.

He had this air about him like a man who owned the world and had nothing to fear or to lose. And Sam instantly knew that the man wasn't all he appeared to be. Maybe it was the eerie smirk, or the unsettling look on his face, or maybe even the disturbing emotions flickering in his eyes, either way he caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise and a chill to travel down his spine.

The stranger smiled. "Well, well, well, if it isn't little Sammy. I must admit you are a bit on the short side, I expected you to be taller, but that is hardly anything to be worried about, it can be easily remedied after all."

"What are you?" asked Sam because there was no doubt in Sam's mind that the being in front of him wasn't human.

That's when the stranger's eyes flashed a yellow color like puss, Sam didn't show any outwardly reaction to this at all, he already knew there was something other worldly with the stranger and although some distant corner of his mind was telling him that he should be wary of this being, Sam couldn't bring himself to actually listen to it, he was barely aware of that part as it is.

"Smart I see. I knew I liked you for a reason." Said the creature with a smug smile as if he had proven something he already knew was true.

"What are you? And what do you want?" repeated Sam in an uncharacteristic show of bravado. He knew he was defenseless and had no weapons on his person but he also knew he had nothing to lose, nothing to live for and maybe this is for the best, maybe then he wouldn't have to watch Dean die.

"You can worry about what I am or what I want later, what you need to get that big brain of yours concerned about is what YOU want."

Sam tried not to get intrigued but he couldn't help himself, he knew he was being lured but he was already caught hook, line and sinker.

"What do you mean?" asked Sam in a small voice any sign of his earlier bravado gone in the face of all the enticing possibilities that invaded his mind.

"Well for the sake of explaining things think of me as your own personal genie I can give you wealth beyond your comprehension, give you love or" and here the stranger gave him a knowing look like he can read Sam like an open book. "Or maybe even heal someone who is at death's door?"

Sam's breath hitched in his throat, this man or creature or whatever couldn't be offering exactly what Sam was yearning, wishing, and hoping for all along.

This must be a joke or a prank or a– a– something. But when he looked into the stranger's eyes he knew the being was serious.

And again Sam couldn't stop his breath from hitching in his throat and this time the stranger didn't try to stifle his mocking smile in return.

This couldn't be real, if it weren't for the stranger watching his every move like a hawk he would have pinched himself, as it is he is still very tempted to pinch himself anyway.

Why would this being offer to do such a thing? He didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he is a Winchester after all and it is a proven fact that nothing good ever happens to them without consequences. He couldn't possibly be doing it out of the goodness of his heart, it occurred to Sam then that the stranger hadn't said anything about it being for free and Sam should have known, he learned a long time ago never to assume things it was rule number two in 'The Hunters Guide For Dummies'.

"And of course you want something in return?" he asked warily.

The creature gave one of his infuriating smirks again.

"There is no reason for you to worry; all I want in return is a small price. You won't even have to give it to me now. Ten years sounds good? Ten years of living your life fully without any repercussions." The stranger didn't even try to deny that he was asking for payment in return, and oddly enough that fact comforted Sam; at least he knew the stranger was being straightforward with him.

"What makes you think that I would want to work with a monster like you? Why shouldn't I just kill you right now?" He was obviously bluffing but he didn't want to come across as too eager lest he would be taken advantage of.

But apparently it was too late for that, Sam should have known that no matter what he wouldn't have been able to hide the hope and worst his willingness to do, pay and give whatever it took to have his big brother by his side again, so he shouldn't have even tried.

And for the first time since meeting him, something other than amusement flashed in the being's eyes, something more akin to fury than anger.

And before Sam could even scoot back half an inch he found himself thrown roughly against the wall and suspended there and within seconds the creature was right in front of his face occupying his personal space, his face was so close to his own they were breathing the same air and their noses were almost touching.

He stared Sam in the eye. "Listen here, Sammy boy, I like you, I really do." and if Sam could move any part of his body at all, he would have flinched at those words. "That's why I have been easy on you, taking my sweat time, trying not to intimidate you but apparently I shouldn't have done that." He said slowly almost calmly with a condensing smile on his face.

"Now let's get something clear, your brother is either dead," Sam recoiled "or is well on his being there. And the only thing that could save him is standing right in front of you, so you either start showing me some respect or you better start running back to your brother, who knows maybe you will even get the chance say goodbye, if it's not too late already." He waited a minute to make sure it all stank in before continuing in a false cheerful tone. "So, why don't you drop your games and stop pretending, because both you and I already know that there isn't anything you wouldn't be willing to do for your brother. Understand?"

The invisible force gluing him on the wall started to tighten on him until he couldn't take his breath, his lungs were crying for air and there was nothing he can do about it. Black spots were appearing on the edges of his vision and started to eat it all up, until all that he could see was a black abyss that was trying to pull him in and swallow him whole. And right when he thought that this was the end, the invisible bonds released him from its snare and he fell to the ground like a rag doll.

The monster was staring at him intensely then he made a motion with his face urging Sam to answer his question – which apparently wasn't rhetorical – Sam nodded weakly to show his acquiescence and it felt like the minute motion had sapped out all his remaining strength and suddenly the fear that had been absent all this time made its presence known and Sam wished it would pull a vanishing act again soon.

The creature nodded satisfied with his silent answer and then he smiled warmly and all traces of fury and evilness vanished from his eyes like they were never there.

"Now let's return to the original subject." He paused and a serious look entered his eyes. "I want your soul, Samuel Winchester."

Sam's eyes widened comically in a show of pure horror, he must have heard that wrong.

"I know it might sound scary but it's more than worth it right?" said the creature seeing the horrified look on his face in the same tone a car dealer would use to sell a beat up truck.

"My soul?" cried Sam and the creature nodded in acquiescence.

"W– what does that even mean? You want me to be your s– slave?" Sam said in a shaky voice.

He shook his head as if truly disappointed by the question. "No, nothing like that. Where would you get such distasteful idea? Those who make deals with the devil shall be damned for all of eternity."

"H– hell" spluttered Sam weakly and then his brain finally caught up to another part of the sentence. "You are the d– devil?" He said in a horrified whisper.

Oh god this can't be happening he was talking to the devil, the real deal, who probably made a living out of eating babies' hearts and sacrificing virgins on full moons and …

The creature gave an amusement filled chuckle. "Oh, Samuel, you flatter me, really you do. Geez you kids with your stereotypes, because I want your soul doesn't automatically make me "The devil", ah adolescence." he said with the air of a parent exasperated from his child's constant questioning.

And Sam breathed a sigh of relief, and then the creature continued. "You need to be sure of what you are saying before you blabber the wrong thing to the wrong people, Samuel. However that doesn't mean you were exactly wrong you see I am a demon, not the Devil, but close enough."

Great, thank God, it's not the Devil. It's only your everyday common demon that is very reassuring, he thought sarcastically. It doesn't matter anyway he decided to concentrate on one thing at a time and the fact that demons do exist had to take a back seat right now

Sam took a moment to compose himself before asking. "If you are a demon then why are you helping me?"

"Ah Sam, I thought we have been through this just now. I am helping you because I want your soul in return. It's easy to understand isn't it? I am sure you have heard about the law of equivalent exchange before; your soul for you brother's well being, a life for a life?"

"And what exactly happens to my soul after I'm de– after you collect it." He said instead.

The demon gave a truly devilish grin and wasn't that full of irony. "Well, you tell me Sam, what do you think souls do in Hell, exactly?"

"Torture." said Sam detachedly and strangely enough he didn't stutter this time. The demon didn't grace him with an answer to that, but in this occasion the silence was more telling than any words.

"So," said the demon with a winning smile, "Do we have a deal?"

"What?" said Sam breathlessly, "N– now? Don't I get like um…time to think about it?"

"Of course, you got all the time in the world but I doubt that dearest big brother of yours has that much time, in fact his time is almost up." He said it in a casual tone like he was talking about the weather, but his smug smirk showed his true thoughts on the matter.

And that was all the incentive Sam needed to hear, the mention of Dean was all that was necessary to close the deal and the demon probably knew it too. Sam's fate was sealed the moment the demon showed up and offered to cure his brother, Sam knew then that he would do anything to save his brother's life and that hadn't changed in the last ten minutes.

He steeled his resolve and took a deep breath. "I'll do it." and he was pleased with how steady his voice sounded.

"Fantastic." said the demon smiling. "But before we make this official, there is a little detail I may have omitted before." the demon made sure to look Sam in the eye before continuing. "If you agree to the deal, Dean will lose all his memories and before you ask, yes that includes you, your parents, hunting, and everything in between. And if you consent to the deal then you can't ever under any circumstances tell Dean the truth or he will drop dead before you get more than one word out, do you understand what I am saying?"

Sam was reeling from the news. "All his memories? But– but if he lost all of his memories, if he didn't rem– remember me, then how –how," Sam took a deep breath and tried again, "Then I would lose my brother anyway."

"Samuel," Said the demon sounding upset, then he gave a sigh, "I am really disappointed in you; how could you say that? Would you rather your brother be dead than alive?"

And Sam couldn't take it anymore he partially exploded. "But it would be pointless. It would still feel the same, and in the end I will still lose him and Dean he– he won't even be my brother anymore; he would live his life without knowing that he has a family, a past, an ambition, an identity. How can you ask me to give all that away? Like it has no meaning, like it never existed, like he never existed."

And even though Sam was shouting silent tears were leaving tracks on his cheeks, he knew he should be strong – Winchesters don't ever cry after all, or show any weakness for that matter– but he couldn't stop and he didn't care anyway. All he wanted to do was sob his heart right out.

"And is that really a bad thing, Samuel?" continued the demon not even slightly putt off by his shouting. "Think about Dean, won't it be better for him to forget? How do you think Dean would react once he learns of his father's death, his idol, his hero, his everything? And what would happen when he learns that his little baby brother whom he had raised and protected all his life would die because of him? Or what if he thinks that you have become one of the things he was raised to hunt, that he needs to put you down. It would kill him, wouldn't it?"

Some faraway part of Sam's brain noticed that it was weird that the demon could come up with so many reasons on the top of his head, how it sounded more like a premade list than an improvised speech, but the rest of Sam's brain was concerned with the real possibility that Dean might not remember him at all. And now he realizes that was what scared him the most.

"I just want him to remember me." 'To ruffle my hair, hold me in his arms and to love me' went unsaid but hung heavily in the air nonetheless.

The demon looked tired now, like he had expected Sam to agree with him ages ago. "Just for once Samuel, don't be selfish and think about Dean. He sacrificed everything for you; don't you think it's time for you to do the same? Dean would be free from hunting, free from chasing after his parents' killer, trying to avenge a mother he barely remembers and a father who saw him as nothing more than a soldier. Dean threw away his life and dreams to take care of you, to follow in his father's footsteps, is that really all you want for him, now finally he would be free from all the responsibilities he had no desire to carry, but still they were placed on his then too small shoulders. Can you not be satisfied with the knowledge that Dean is happy and safe? Can't that be enough?"

If Sam was paying attention he would have noticed that the demon knew about his family more than he should and that the demon used the word killer instead of killers which would mean that his parents were both killed by the same monster, but Sam wasn't paying attention or more accurately he was concentrating but not on those stuff, he was focused on Dean and what was best for him.

"And there is no other way? Can't you heal him without taking his memories?" He didn't want to sound selfish but he couldn't help but ask.

The demon sighed and his eyes softened, he crouched until he was at the same level with Sam and he made sure to look him in the eyes, "No, Sam, there is no other way. It's your decision in the end, but believe me it will be better this way." He squeezed his shoulder once and gave Sam a minute before continuing. "Dean's time is running out Sam, and whatever decision you make you have to do it now, so what will it be?"

It finally dawned on Sam what he was about to do and frankly he wasn't surprised with his decision at all. Maybe he should be worried about what Dean would want and that he would never have chosen to lose his memories, but Dean can't decide anything right now, Dean is dying and now it's Sam's turn to make the decisions for him. And as long as Dean is safe and happy then he can't ask for more.

"He won't remember anything from before?" Sam was stalling, he knew it, the demon knew it. But he just couldn't let go.

"No, he won't." Thankfully the demon didn't call him on his stalling and humored him.

"And I can't talk to him again?"

"I am afraid not."

"And he will be safe and happy, right?"

"Yes, he will be happy."

He looked the Demon in the eye and his voice didn't waver at all, "I agree. But I want to be able to say goodbye first." He said in his strongest voice like he was demanding, instead of asking permission.

"I will give you an hour to say goodbye, after that I will take Dean somewhere else where he will be able to live his new life. Deal?"

Where? Sam wanted to ask so badly, but he held his tongue. "Deal." he said instead.

"Great, pleasure doing business with you, Samuel."

"What are we supposed to do now? Don't I have to sign a contract or shake hands or something?" Sam said before he could change his mind or something.

"Or something." muttered the demon in a quiet voice and a strange smile on his face. "All you have to do, Samuel is hold still." And Sam did, he was standing stiff as a log barely even daring to breath.

This was it.

He could hear the blood roaring in his ears.

And the demon was getting closer to him.

This was it.

And he could almost feel his life shattering all around him.

And the demon was leaning down.

This was it.

And he was frozen in time, frozen in place.

And he knew what the demon was planning to do.

This was it.

He knew there was no going back, not now, not ever.

And the demon was almost touching his lips now.

This was it.

It was the end and he hoped Dean would be able to forgive him.

And then the demon was kissing him.

This was it.

* * *

><p><strong> So what do you think? should i continue? <strong>  
><strong>Don't forget to leave a review, i would love to hear your thoughts.<strong>  
><strong>And have a nice day.<strong>


	2. Step Back

**A/N** First of all thanks to my wonderful Beta **AlELizabeth**  
>And sorry about the delay in this chapter it just didn't want to write itself.<br>Please **read and review** and tell me what you think.

Chapter two

Step back

Sometimes the best way to deliver a punch is to step back.

But step back too far, you ain't fighting at all.

Bobby POV

It has been two weeks since Sam came to stay at his house. Two weeks of constant nightmares, two weeks of Sam waking up at the middle of the night screaming his heart out.

Bobby doesn't have it in himself to talk to Sam about it, Sam is a Winchester after all and Winchesters are well known for their pride issues, if the kid was going to talk about his dreams then he will do it of his own accord and no amount of nagging was going to change that.

But every time Sam's agonizing screams echo in the darkness of his house, Bobby's heart breaks a bit more. He has no idea what Sam dreams about but he doesn't doubt that the kid must have been through hell and back since his family died almost a decade ago.

Speaking of the devil, the kid has been staring at him for the past god only knew how many minutes and Bobby was sure the kid wasn't seeing him at all. He would have to do something about that.

"Take a picture boy, it will last longer." He said in his gruff voice.

Sam blushed and looked down, like he hadn't realized he had been staring at Bobby this whole time.

A displeased look crossed Bobby's face but Sam wasn't looking so he didn't see it. Truth be told he tried to be less gruff with the kid, he knew that he is in a delicate position right now even if the kid won't speak about it at all. But no matter how much he tried to be gentle with the kid, it didn't seem to be enough. It was just who he is, he showed his affection by his curt manner, the gruffer he was the more affection he felt.

Sam opened his mouth as if to say something but changed his mind at the last second. And the hopeful look that crossed Bobby's face fell almost as soon as it had come.

Sam turned around and grabbed two cups of coffee and placed one of them in front of Bobby and then he sat across from him nursing his own cup.

It was silent in the kitchen for a couple of minutes until Bobby tried to start a conversation, he had given the boy all the time and space he needed and still he was silent as a rock and that needed to change now.

"So, how did you sleep last night?" Bobby winced internally as far as conversation openers went this one was definitely in the worst ten.

Sam tried to hide his flinch but he didn't really succeed, like at all. "Alright, I guess." He said after clearing his throat a couple of times.

Bobby didn't want to talk about the dreams – not now anyway, he was hoping to bring it up more softly – although it can't be helped now, so he might as well use this opportunity fate has provided him.

"Sam, you know you can talk to me about anything right?"

Sam hesitated for a moment before answering without making eye contact. "Yes, of course."

"Oh really, well that's good to know. Care to tell me now what is going on exactly?" It was obvious that Sam was lying through his teeth – maybe calling him on it wasn't the best, or the most mature thing he could have done but so what sue him. It broke his heart to think that Sam doesn't trust him all that much, although he should have expected that, it has almost been ten years since he last seen the kid.

"It's nothing, Bobby, really." Bobby's gave him an incredulous look, which prompted him to continue, "Nothing for you to worry about anyway."

"I should be the judge of that, don't you think? Now won't you tell me what exactly you have been hiding?"

"That is a bit of a general question Bobby I haven't seen you since… in almost ten years, there is a lot of stuff that ''I am hiding'' right now."

"Well you better start talking then." He retorted almost harshly, not that Sam seemed to notice.

"Bobby I– " Sam looked down at the ground almost like he was gathering his strength before he looked Bobby in the eye for the first time since he arrived at Bobby's doorstep. "Bobby, please can we not talk about this."

He didn't know what broke his heart more, the fact that the kid had to gather his strength to look him in the eye, or the amount of hurt he saw in Sam's eye.

"Sam– "

"It's not your business alright, so just leave me be." He said in an irritated tone that brought back memories to Bobby from when the kid was a teenager throwing tantrums like they were going out of style.

"I say it's damn well my business, you are the one who made it so. You don't knock at people's door at four in the morning looking like you had a wrestling match with a truck and lost repeatedly and then instead of getting better, you look half dead and act like the world is ending and then expect me not to get involved," He said in a level tone, or as level as he could get it.

Sam looked like a kicked puppy and Bobby remembered this look from when the kid was but a toddler following his brother like a shadow all over the junk yard, and it seems the kid has only perfected the look since then.

"I…Bobby you are right I shouldn't have gotten you involved." Geez, it's like the kid misunderstood him deliberately.

"Sam, you know this isn't about– "

"l know that's not what you meant." interrupted Sam tersely maybe even a bit harshly. "But that doesn't mean that I should have gotten you involved anyway."

"Family don't end with blood, Sam." He remembers telling John the Same thing what seems like eons ago, little Sammy had asked him what it meant and he had explained it to the kid then, but it seemed that Sam has forgotten.

There was a moment of silence before Sam continued more softly. "It's just…there is a lot of stuff on my mind right now and I need time to figure things out and then I will be good as new."

Bobby stared Sam in the eye for a long time before he finally relented, he couldn't even begin to describe – let alone understand – the emotions running through the kid's eye but he saw that Sam was earnest and honest. Whatever the real situation was, the kid believed he could solve it on his own, given time and all Bobby could do is cross his fingers hoping the idjit was right about this.

"Fine, but if you don't get better by the end of the week then you better expect another conversation about this. And I won't be easily put off then." He said giving Sam a stern look.

Sam only nodded, there was nothing else to say.

'That conversation went well' thought Bobby sarcastically.

The pair drank their coffees in silence albeit now it was painfully awkward. Normally Bobby would start making breakfast at this point but he had no desire to cook anything right now – his appetite has gone poof in the last ten minutes – and Sam hardly had any appetite at all these days, so he figured they could skip breakfast today.

Once Sam finished his coffee he left and went to his room without saying anything only offering a halfhearted smile at Bobby that was more of a grimace than anything, though he appreciated the effort just the same.

When Bobby was sure that Sam was in his room, he banged his head on the table and a muttered "idjit" could be heard in the quiet kitchen.

Sam POV

As much as he wanted to deny it he had to admit that Bobby was right. He had been running around himself in circles since he had gotten out of Hell. There is a lot of stuff he needs to figure out and instead of pointing his efforts in one direction he had been trying to solve all of his problems at the same time and the only thing that accomplished was mixing it up all together.

He is an experienced hunter, a small situation like this shouldn't get him so worked up, except this was no small dilemma. He hoped it was as easy as it sounded but everything was already tangled up together before he came along and tried to make sense of it and only ended making it much worse.

The only thing he found out from spending countless hours in the library was that getting out of hell was impossible, which is obviously not true – what with him being a living proof and all – so it's safe to say that his research is all bullshit.

He knew that Bobby could really help him, he was one of the best researchers out there after all, and furthermore Bobby knows his library better than anyone else, he could at least tell him what books would be complete rubbish.

The problem is he can't ask for Bobby's help and not because of pride or anything like that – although it does play a role – but the bigger reason that prevented him from asking Bobby's help was that it would require telling Bobby about his resurrection and by subsequence his death, which would undoubtedly lead to discussing the deal he made almost a decade ago, which would lead to talking about his stint in the pit and the fact that Dean is still alive.

So, no, talking to Bobby is out of question right now. It seems like he is on his own.

He needs to think about his problem from a new light, since he obviously has been doing it all wrong earlier.

He has two priorities, who or what got him out? And for what reason? He learned a long time ago that no one does anything from the goodness of their heart. He doesn't want to be ungrateful he had just been sprung out of hell after all; maybe he should focus on the bright side. Yeah right like that ever worked out before.

Truthfully what is bothering him most is the fact that he is out of Hell. The terms of the deal with Azazel were clear as day.

Dean is cured, Sam's soul rots in Hell for all eternity, with the added fact that Dean looses his memories of his younger brother.

But that wasn't what happened, Sam is out of Hell after only spending about fifty years there and although fifty years is not something to be taken lightly, compared to eternity it's not exactly much.

So what does that exactly mean regarding his deal and more importantly, what does that mean for his brother. Did Dean drop dead the moment Sam woke up in his own grave? Or maybe Dean suddenly remembered everything about hunting, dad, mom and his little Sammy? Could Dean be out there looking for him right now? Or maybe Dean remembered, but decided not to leave his apple pie normal life; decided that he was better off without his little brother.

Aghh, he should stop thinking about it, it won't do him any good what happened has happened and he can't change the past, he can't throw himself back in the pit and he can't change the terms of the deal.

Besides it's best for him not knowing, because sometimes ignorance is bless and he knows that if he learned that everything he did was all for nothing it would break him, shatter him to a million tiny little pieces and nothing would be able to put him back together.

He is better off living in the illusion that Dean is happy and safe, he can't afford to think otherwise, that belief is what made Sam survive all these years, when he was at his lowest he would think about Dean and take comfort in the fact that for once in his life he hadn't screwed things up – Dean was free – and Sam would know that it was all worth it.

However it's not that easy, how could he live in an illusion if he knows it's not real? How could he discard the very real possibility that Dean might be dead?

But in the end, no matter how much thought he gives it, or how many hours he spends away thinking, all he ever is going to accomplish is more theories and more doubts. Maybe it's time to think about something else, something that is productive at least.

So the only thing left to worry about is how the hell he got out of hell and (yes the pun was intended), and the only way he could figure this out was by more research – like he hasn't done enough research to last him several life times already – but it's not like it can be helped, it seems like it's reading time for him again.

Funny how once upon a time - that seems so far away now - research had been his favorite part of the hunt.

Sam powered up his trusty laptop and continued reading where he had left off, he was reading on some pagan gods that might exist and have the ability to raise the dead.

''Osiris is an Egyptian god, usually identified as the god of the afterlife, the underworld and the dead. Osiris was a god chiefly of regeneration and rebirth.

In one version of the myth Set (Osiris' brother) fooled Osiris into getting into a box, and threw it into the Nile. When Osiris' wife (Isis) finally found him, he was already dead. So she used a spell and brought him back to life so he could impregnate her and then he died again. Afterwards Osiris was resurrected again and became the god of the underworld.''

Well that was highly informative, he thought sarcastically. Unless of course he was resurrected to impregnate someone, which was disturbing on many levels.

Besides that spell probably only worked for pagan gods or something, furthermore he was still standing while the myth clearly stated that Osiris died after impregnating her, then again he hadn't impregnated anyone lately and the myth was vague on the possible fate of Osiris if he hadn't impregnated Isis and in the end Osiris was still resurrected as the god of the underworld –

What the hell is he thinking? Impregnating? God he obviously needs to get some rest like yesterday and more than just a few hours. If there is one thing he learned from his father it was to never do a job without a clear sharp mind, and it was obvious to Sam that his mind was neither of those things.

So he closed his laptop and laid down on the bed, he thought about taking some sleeping pills, before he shuddered remembering what happened last time he took those before he slept, yeah he is much better off not taking them.

A spell to bring back the dead, he was busy researching creatures with power over death but a spell could be used by practically anybody, hmm that needs a bit of looking into – and that was the last thing on Sam's mind before he entered Morpheus' realm.

He was burning and burning.

There was fire everywhere.

And he was burning and burning.

And the fire was everywhere, all around him, inside him.

He was the flame, and nothing else existed except for him, and yet he watched helplessly as the inferno ate everything in its path leaving ruins behind.

And he was burning–

BANG

Sam woke up with a start at the sound of a gunshot going off downstairs; his dreams fading back into the abyss in his mind were he locked everything up.

He felt like he had only been asleep for a couple of minutes however guessing by the dimming light outside it is past noon already, nevertheless Sam didn't have time to wonder about that, considering he woke up on the sound of a gun being fired.

He grabbed his shotgun from the floor – his dad would kill him if he ever saw Sam's careless handling of his weapons – before hurrying downstairs.

When Sam arrived at the kitchen – which he figured was the source of the commotion he heard – he found Bobby pointing his shot gun at a relatively tall stranger, the man appeared human but judging from the several gun holes in his trench coat and the fact that he is still standing and appears unruffled, Sam could make an educated guess that he was far from human.

The stranger locked his eyes with Sam and he almost dropped the shotgun from the intensity of his stare, there was something about those eyes that was not human – or evil for that matter– something that was almost divine, he felt like he could get lost in this cerulean azure gaze forever, trying to know what was hidden in their abyss, to see what lay deeper.

Yet he never got the chance, for the stranger averted his eyes and settled them somewhere above Sam's shoulders. And just like that, Sam was out of his trance and though he felt like he had spaced out for a long time he knew it couldn't have been more than a few seconds.

"Who are you?" said Sam

"That is exactly what I planning to find out," said Bobby before addressing the stranger. "How the hell did you get in here, demon? This house is fully proofed against scumbags like you."

The stranger didn't even turn to look at Bobby. "I have informed you before that I am no demon," said the creature in a gravely steady voice. And although this was the first time Sam heard the being speak – in fact this was the first time Sam saw the stranger at all – there was a feeling of familiarity he couldn't shake, as if he met the stranger before.

"Like hell you ain't." said Bobby and he sounded and looked a couple of seconds away from adding a few more holes to the stranger's torso, probably the only thing stopping him was how infective it appeared to be so far.

"I have nothing to prove to you, nor do I have the time to quarrel with a mere human who is inconsequential in the wide scheme of things, I have come here to converse with Samuel Winchester. You simply don't matter." and Sam wondered if the last part sounded like a thret to Bobby's ears too. And suddenly Sam realized that he wasn't surprised he knew – at least subconsciously –the moment he laid eyes on the stranger that he was here for him personally.

"You can speak to Sam after you start ans– "

"It's alright, Bobby." Sam said while lowering his weapon, it's not like it would do much good anyway.

"What the hell do you think you are doing, boy?"

"He means no harm." He said, lying through his teeth, he knew that the stranger wasn't a demon – thanks to his psychic powers and the demon blood running through his veins – but he had no idea if he was going to kill them. But he wanted to hear what he had to say, and it's not he had done anything threatening or tried to harm them although he had had many chances, and that has to count for something, right?

Bobby looked flabbergasted and was obviously about to protest, but for some reason or the other, he held his tongue and Sam was grateful for that, Bobby however didn't lower his firearm in fact he only held it tighter.

"You wanted to talk to me, well here I am. You clearly know my name, so who and what are you? It's only fair, right?" He said calmly.

"My name Castiel and I am an angel of the lord."

"Angels don't exist." Sam answered without batting an eyelash or even pausing for a second.

Castiel looked puzzled, "I don't understand, how you cannot believe in angels when you obviously have faith?"

Sam's eye twitched at this, "I haven't prayed in a long time. Besides what does faith has to do with you claiming to be an angel." He can't believe he was discussing this. Angels don't exist; it is a fact end of the story. There was nothing to discuss.

The angel gave no indication that he had heard Sam, "I would have showed you my true visage, to prove myself however only certain people – special people – can perceive it, and I have reason to believe that you aren't one of them." And the being gave him a long look, and Sam felt like this stranger in front of him knew about Sam's darkest secrets.

Sam snorted in disbelief off course Castiel can't show him his true visage, how very convenient. "And I am supposed to take your word for it. I am afraid I am going to need more than that." He scoffed disdainfully.

A heartbeat passed where no one moved and the silence rang clearly then suddenly lightning flashed across the skies although there wasn't a hint of clouds earlier, when Sam looked up he saw great shadowy wings appear on Castiel's back, stretching off into the distance, they looked to be made out of shadow except they were much darker. Then the lighting stopped and the wings disappeared like they were never there in the first place.

This time the silence lasted far longer, until Sam cleared his throat. "This still doesn't prove to me that you are an angel," he said, but he looked less skeptical and more calculating.

"What else could I be? I have managed to bypass every single one of your protections and your weapons have no effect on me. Yet you still hold into your belief that I am not to be trusted. What would wash away your doubts?"

Sam refrained from saying that even if he was proved to be an angel it wouldn't be reason enough to trust him – Life has taught Sam he could only trust himself.

He wondered what exactly was going on Bobby's mind, whether he believed him or if he was aiming his shotgun a bit higher, yet he didn't dare move his eyes away from the being.

"If you are an angel, then what are you doing here?" The way Sam saw it; it was pointless to argue on what the creature was, apparently they reached a standstill, Castiel insisted that he was an angel and nothing Castiel would say would be able to convince Sam of that. So he might as well discuss another topic, one with much more importance.

"I have already informed you of my objective, I am here to speak to you."

"About?" asked Sam warily.

"The work we have for you. You were rescued from Hell for a reason and it's time you learned of it."

Sam did a double take, he almost though he heard him wrong – what with the way he said it so flippantly. "Y– You mean you know who brought me back from Hell?" he asked breathlessly

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition." Castiel confirmed in his emotionless voice.

"Y– you? You freed me from Hell?" Sam didn't want to believe it, except that when he looked in the Castiel's eyes he knew it was the truth. "Why? Why would you do it?"

"I already told you," said Castiel frowning as if he couldn't understand the enigma that was humans.

Sam almost pulled his hair out in frustration, the answers he had spent weeks looking for were right in front of his eyes and in the end it seemed like he would end up with more questions than answers, "What work a supposed angel would need the help of a human with, and why me specifically?"

Castiel locked his eyes with Sam for the second time that evening before nodding to himself as if he understood something, that wasn't making a lick of sense a moment before.

"Good things do happen; Sam and you deserve to be saved." Said the angel gravely before continuing with an even deeper tone – and apparently that was possible. "The end of times is nigh and unless you do something about it, then we are all condemned."

And with that the angel disappeared – before Sam could even wonder about that ominous statement – with only the reverberating sound of flapping wings indicating that he was ever here before.

"You better start explaining kid, and fast."

Sam looked up to find Bobby glaring daggers at him; he totally forgot Bobby was still here, oh God that means he heard everything.

"Maybe you could just ignore this whole fiasco and act like nothing has happened," he said with the nervous laugh. He knew it wasn't going to work, but he had to try anyway.

And forget about glaring daggers Bobby was partially glaring nukes now. Guess there is no easy way out of this one.

***************************************

TBC  
>So what do you think, i am open to suggestions.<p> 


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